Ten
by Lunaretta
Summary: A story, written in intervals of ten, detailing the aftermath of Lucille Tracy's death. Movie- verse. Rated T for character death.


Ten- a Thunderbirds Fanfiction

**Disclaimer- **I do NOT own the Thunderbirds.

**Ten seconds – Jeff Tracy**

I can hear beeping monitors and the shrieked voices of the hospital staff inside the operating theatre. A surgeon eventually comes out. There is a grim expression on his face.

"We're sorry Mr. Tracy. We did all we could to save her…"

Those meaningless words float around in my mind. I feel numb. So I weep. Weep for my lost love. I want to shout and cry and scream in utter anger and immense sadness- all at the same time. Anger at the doctors and rescue team- couldn't they have done something to save her? I feel guilty for that thought. It wasn't their fault.

The sadness I feel is mind shattering. I have not felt this raw for a long time, not since my parents had died. My heart has been torn into pieces and I don't think it can be put back together again. My precious Lucille was dead. She would never come back, never play the piano with loving tenderness and joy, or paint and sing and laugh. She would never be there again for our boys.

I ask if I can go in and see her. A nurse wordlessly ushers me in. So tentatively look in at her. She looks peaceful, a result of the anesthetic. Lucy was my peace when I was angry, I recall, as well as my rock and a host of other things. Lucy was everything to me. Absolutely everything. I lived for her, as well as our sons. I don't know how I'll even cope without her. I don't know how to be a single father.

Our sons. What would they do without their mother? I anguish at the fates, for giving us this horrible destiny. What have they we to deserve this? Better still, why did Lucy die? She was such a good person. So why on earth did the Fates decide to cut her thread of life, especially so soon?

**Ten minutes – Scott Tracy**

We are waiting in a dull white room. We are waiting. We are not hopeful.

The dull white room is probably the reason we are not optimistic. A little while ago, Mom was rushed to the hospital and Dad was the only one allowed to follow her to the theatre. We children were shooed into this poky little waiting room with women's gossip magazines that Mom says is junk. There is also a little train set that Alan is playing with. Gordon is half heartedly joining in.

I glance at the clock. Only a few minutes have gone by since the last time I looked at it. Time is inching by. John is staring at the stars. I think it's something to do with that new hobby of his. At least he has something to do. Virgil and I are bored out of our brains.

Dad strides into the waiting room and his eyes are red and swollen, as if he had cried. I almost laugh at that thought. Dad never cried... unless someone had died. I gulp back my instinctive question and see his heart wrenching expression. Someone HAD died. My brain comes to the conclusion before my heart does and I speak out.

"Dad? How's Mom? Is she okay?" I ask tentatively.

"She's dead," Dad replies stiffly.

It is Alan who speaks next. "Is she never gonna come back, like Granny and Grandpa? Is she in Heaven, too?" I almost yell at his innocent question. Of course she wasn't going to come back. I stop myself yelling at him though. It wouldn't be good to yell at your four year old brother for asking a naïve question.

"Yes. She's dead, like your Grandparents, and in Heaven now," replies our father with a sense of finality.

Alan's lip trembles and he cries his heart out. Gordon tries not to cry, but he soon joins Alan. The rest of us can't help it. One by one, the waterworks are unleashed, and Dad is there, comforting us, though he looks like he wants to cry himself. I wish he would cry and grieve for mom.

**Ten hours – John Tracy**

I think I'm still in shock. It must be a dream. But I know it isn't. Mom is dead.

Though it is early in the morning, we are at the ski lodge, finishing off the packing of our bags to go home. Rather, Scott, Virgil and I are packing as well as supervising Gordon's luggage, while Dad is packing the rest, including mom's stuff. But mom isn't coming with us. She will come back a few days later, in a coffin.

We are rather methodical. No one speaks. This is very strange since every one of us brothers, except for me, is normally gregarious extroverts. The air feels heavy. Everyone is bright eyed from tears they refuse to flow down, as well as having swollen eyes from crying at the hospital. Alan is the only one who is asleep, as he cried himself to sleep when we got home.

I stare at the stars. It dims the pain. The pain of losing Mom It's not like someone has taken out a knife and slit my skin and broken my bones, as well as giving me bruises. It feels like it though. Judging from my brothers' faces, they are feeling it as well. Deep emotional pain, which hurts far more than the fiercest physical lashing anyone, could give us.

Sometimes I wish I was like Alan, young and naïve. Alan knows that he'll never see his mommy again. But he doesn't understand the pain or suffering that comes with this loss. I hate this pain. Though Mom feels no more pain in Heaven, her family on earth feels a lot of it.

I just want to go home. To go somewhere that feels safe and friendly. Ski lodges, any snow field or even snow and hospitals will always feel depressing and sad. They will echo the loss of Mom. I don't think anyone in my family can go to one of these places without thinking about death. We all shared something special with her. Now that part of us has gone with her.

**Ten days - Virgil Tracy**

Today is Mom's funeral. Today is the day we say goodbye- forever.

I didn't really think Mom was dead till now. It was too surreal. I thought someone would pop out and say "April Fool! Your Mother is still alive!" even though it is a long time away from April.

The minister is saying some words, but I simply cannot concentrate on them. Around me are all sorts of people, some I don't know some I do. Many of the people I don't know are people I wish hadn't been invited. They're the people who look sad because Dad is a rich man and they are important people, who are also rich. The only people who should have come to her funeral are us and the people Mom liked and knew. The rich people know nothing about her, and probably don't care.

Mom's casket is slowly lowered into the grave and the casket is then covered. Her final resting place, in the ground. I hope she is happy. I hope in Heaven you can do the things you want- I think Mom would have wanted to play the piano and paint. Even though I hope Mom is happy, I can't help but feel angry and sad as well.

I'm sad, we all are. Mom dies, so suddenly. She wasn't sick. She wasn't old. But she died. In such a stupid way- an accident. I cry at Mom's grave because of it. We all suffer the consequences f her death. So I feel angry. Sometimes at her, sometimes not. Then I remind myself it wasn't her fault.

We now sing a hymn, in remembrance of her. It is her favourite hymn, a song she once taught me to play on the piano. I suddenly feel overwhelmed. I don't think I can do anything that gives even a small memory of Mom again, at least for a while. I don't want to play the piano again, since Mom used to play it or paint again, as Mom used to paint. It might sound stupid, since I was closest to Mom, but I want to block her out. Her memories hurt too much.

**Ten months – Gordon Tracy**

I am now packing my bags for a trip. A trip I don't really want to take.

Yesterday, Dad announced that we would go and live on a tropical island, the one we went to for a holiday, after Mom died. A Professor Hackenbacker and his son Fermat, as well as the Belagant family, who will be our housekeepers, are coming as well. I don't really understand why Dad wants a scientist to live with us but I suppose it really isn't our business, and it probably has something to do with the 'top secret' papers that have been arriving lately.

I don't understand why we have to move to this island. Yes, we are all still sad because of Mom dying, but I don't think we need to block every memory of her. Dad has only kept a few photos of Mom- the ones with us in it- the rest are packed away in the attic or in some storage area.

I don't think we're dealing with the issue of Mom dying properly. Dad tries not to look sad and Scott copies him. They do not mention Mom's name, as if she would cause them pain. John just stares into space when someone mentions her, as if he was remembering something. He is so much quieter now. I think Virgil is trying to forget her- he doesn't play the piano more than what his teachers tell him to and hasn't painted much. Basically, he doesn't do anything Mom did, at least not anymore. Alan is too little to understand. It's like I'm the only one who wants to remember her or talk about her, and I'm hushed when I do. It's not possible to forget a person.

I think Dad is trying to forget Mom. In fact, I think my whole family is. I would bet Dad's entire fortune that we're moving to an island in the middle of nowhere since it has no memories of Mom. But I don't want to forget her. She was a great person who doesn't deserve to be forgotten.

**Ten years – Alan Tracy**

I stand at Mom's grave. It is ten years exactly after her death. I am alone. I lay a bunch of flowers on the tombstone.

I'm supposed to be at school right now. Scott was supposed to deliver Fermat and me to the airport and we were supposed to catch the train link to the town closest to school, and then catch the bus to school. However, Dad, for some reason or another, had decided we should go to school early this term and we would still need to wait about a week and a half before lessons actually started so I told Fermat to go on with out me at the train station. I caught many trains until I caught one to the city were Mom was buried. I needed to say something to her. I don't know what yet, but I do need to talk to her.

We used to come to Mom's grave with Dad every year. But International Rescue came and Dad always went alone. I wonder what Mom would think of us now. Would she be proud of us? I remember us growing up. Though I was only little, I remember each of my brothers' first girlfriends. I remember when Dad told us about the Thunderbirds. I remember the chaotic events of last spring break. I remember so many events that you should have been a part of.

I see a black car approaching the cemetery. Oh no. It's Dad. He is going to be so angry at me. He walks out of the car and walks towards me. I see nothing but worry on his face. That's a good sign. He probably won't give me a lecture. Then I hear his words.

"What are you doing out here Alan? You should be at school."

"I know," I reply.

"Why Alan? We were so worried."

Then it hit me. I knew why I had come today, of all days. Ten years after the death of my mother. The death I could barely remember, yet gave me so much pain. So I told my father "To get closure. I needed closure on Mom's death."

Fin.

**Author's Note: **So that concludes my first angst/emotional fic. Please review and tell me what you think of it.


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